The cluster of igloos sprawled across the valley like a white honeycomb. Smoke from chimneys curled upward under the heavy gray sky.

Matthias followed Barto into the Frostwarden Tribe's settlement. Guided by their host, the group navigated the bustling streets. The ice beneath their feet, polished to a mirror-like sheen by countless footsteps, reflected the gyrfalcon circling overhead.

Yetis on either side of their path paused to salute, while children pressed against icy windows to peer out curiously. Their necks were adorned with unique necklaces of animal bone. Some were inlaid with turquoise, others wrapped in dark red resin.

"This is Frostfang Valley," Leopold said in a low voice. "The tribe has 8,300 yetis, divided into 12 hunting parties."

He pointed toward a massive ice carving on a distant cliff. It was a three-eyed sculpture with glowing ice crystals embedded in its eye sockets.

He continued, "The highest point is the crystalline citadel, their ritual site. The chieft